


Prompt 23 (Helena 3)

by Yoselin



Series: L&L Tumblr Prompts [27]
Category: Love & Legends (Visual Novel)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoselin/pseuds/Yoselin
Summary: Prompt: “L&L AU Prompt (for either Helena or Saerys): MC was originally from the retainers world, one of the Reiner's retainers and have fought in the war with the Witch Queen. After the end of the battle and years of peace, she gets transported to Chicago and meets Chicago!LI. (Where the other world LI either doesn't exist, died, an enemy, or have never met MC. Make any changes you like.)”





	Prompt 23 (Helena 3)

When the war ended, I envisioned ringing applause. I expected thunderous cheers and victorious cries. I expected the domains to burst into motion and the roar of a people triumphant at last blaring through the world.  
However, what I never expected was silence.  
Silence fills the air around us. It is a deafening sound, louder than any cheer. The entire world seems to be quiet, biting its tongue and holding its breath, and we stand still.  
After years of war after war, it is over. The Witch Queen lies dead at our feet. Her crown is in shatters in my hands and my adrenaline is still pumping through my veins.  
My fists squeeze the remnants of the crown in my hand. I hear them crack and bend. My skin is pierced by the glass fragments and I feel a river of red fall from my hand and into the ground below.  
I can scarcely believe this. She is gone. Evil has been defeated and peace is now filling the atmosphere and taking its place. War recedes into the shadows of history and sunlight breaks through the Witch Queen’s eternal night. The world is plunged into light and the earth returns with life.  
I let the fragments of the crown fall. They crumble into tiny, glass stars on the grass. The sound of them breaking even further breaks through the dull roar of silence.  
“Is it done?” Someone asks.  
Altea. She is resting against her staff and her face is full of pallor. The fight had taken much out of her, depleted her magic, and sweat clings the hair of her bangs to her forehead. She is panting and her hands shake.  
Someone else steps forward. August. He is limping and a trail of blood runs red down his forehead. An ugly gash delivered by Magnus has pierced the skin and I don’t miss the way his hand presses to the wound. It hurts him, but he is too stubborn to loose consciousness now.  
He kneels before the corpse of the Witch Queen. She’s sprawled on the ground. Dark, raven hair frames her head like a twisted halo. Her face is whiter than the pale it once was, her eyes are open and white, black veins cross across her face and body, and her dress lies in tatters against her skin. A woman so powerful that the sun was blotted out by her magic is now nothing more than a corpse upon a battlefield.  
What a fitting end death is to the one that brought so much of it into the world.  
“She is dead,” I reply, “And I am glad for it.”  
I stare down at my hands. I broke her crown myself, the source of her magic, and the pieces have cut me. There are jagged cuts to my palms and tiny fragments are buried in my skin. I pay them no mind. The adrenaline coursing through me erases the pain and soreness of war.  
I take a step forward towards the corpse. Reiner has shouldered to the front. His armor is scuffed from battle, his nose is heavily bleeding, and he looks exhausted. There is gray to the mess of red hair on his head, stress has aged him early, and he seems almost like an apparition as he gazes at the enemy that brought him so much pain and suffering.  
“The war is over. What remains of her scattered Generals will be dealt with accordingly. We made the mistake of allowing them to live after the first war. We won’t do it again,” Reiner announces. His eyes are frozen on the Witch Queen’s corpse. Like the many around us, he can scarcely believe it is done with.  
I feel ill suddenly. I have wanted the end of this war for decades, have fantasized about the very moment in which I got to see evil’s incarnate destroyed, but now my victory rings hollow. My pulse pounds in my ears and I want to remove myself from the battlefield as fast as possible.  
She should be here. She should be here celebrating with me. She should be at my side finally able to rest and breathe and break free, but she’s not.  
I take a shallow breath that shakes my shoulders. Bile rises in my throat and I spin around. I march away, armor clanking against the grass, and ignore the retainers calling after me. I’ll explain to them what happened once I’m away from the smell of blood and carnage.  
The edges of the battlefield provide solace. I press myself against a tree and remember how to breathe. My gasps come out quiet and pained. I feel like tearing at my hair but settle for running my fingers through the mess of dark strands instead.  
I should be overwhelmed with joy. I should be screaming from the rooftops about the ended war. I should be full of immense relief and pleasure.  
But instead I just feel numb.  
What good is it to be joyful if I don’t have the one person I love more than life at my side?  
The love of my life is gone from this world. She was taken from me by the very monster that now lies dead feet away. My entire reason for fighting was to give her a future, but her life was cut short long ago.  
I press my hands to my knees and bend over. Bile climbs up my throat but never makes it. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe. I take long breaths of air just because I can. Breathe because I am alive and my lungs still work while my lover’s don’t. Breathe until my sides ache from the strain and the pain reminds me that I am privileged and fortunate. Death has not taken me yet, but it has destroyed me all the same.  
Helena. Her name pains me still. I believed that time would numb me from her death, but the wounds in me are still as raw as the day they were torn into my heart.  
If I close my eyes now, tune out the sounds of armor and soldiers commanding the remnants of the Witch Queen’s forces to surrender, I can almost see her. I can see the woman I loved more than life itself before me. Her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes staring warmly at me, lips whispering my name reverently as she holds me close-  
And her corpse sprawled before me. The blood pooling at her sides, the life leaving her gaze, and her body growing still.  
I tear myself out of that recollection and go back to breathing. It takes every ounce of strength that I have not to break down. I force the image away until it is nothing more than a blemish on my memory. I claw at it until it is gone from existence and snuffed out like a candle light.  
Helena was my world. My reason for fighting. I had never meant to fall in love with the repentant General of my own doppelgänger but it had happened as naturally as the sun rose in the horizon. Helena and Alain had defected midway through the war. The Witch Queen had finally showed them her true colors, and they had decided that they would no longer be the villains in history.  
They had arrived seeking an alliance with Reiner. Reiner had given them the opportunity to prove their loyalties. They had joined the war on our sides. Helena had worked alongside me to take down the Witch Queen once and for all.  
Our time together had been brief, but it had been enough. Love had bloomed like a rose between us. I learned to love the woman that had suffered so much in life yet still persisted. Helena learned to love the girl that had sworn her loyalty to Reiner as a child and still remained ever loyal at his side as an adult. We had grown to be each other’s soulmates and reason for living. Our life was full of talks about the future and what we would do once peace won over war-  
But that had been cut short. During a battle, I had gotten distracted. In the midst of fighting Lennox, I had left myself open for an attack. The Witch Queen had seized it and attempted to kill me. Helena, unable to stop the attack with her magic due to her blind panic, had jumped before me and taken it. The attack had cut through her and she had died before her body could hit the ground.  
I take more shuddering breaths and bow my head. Sweat beads on my brow and I wipe it away. My heart is racing and my mind whirls with terrible memories.  
It had taken every ounce of my strength not to kill myself then. What good was a world where the joy had been cut out of it? Why fight a war now when my entire reason for fighting lay dead before me? I had all but decided to follow her in death, but the retainers had stopped me.  
Don’t die, they had pleaded with me, avenge her. Destroy the Witch Queen and live for Helena. She’d want you to live.  
I press my fists against my eyelids to prevent tears. I am all out of crying. My breath comes out quick.  
Now that my mission has been accomplished, my love avenged, what keeps me in this world?  
———

The inn belonging to the Falkes is in full swing when I arrive. News of the end of the war has spread like wildfire. Tired soldiers scrounge up some energy for celebration, alcohol runs like a steady stream, and music flows everywhere. The entire world rejoices at the end of its suffering.  
I sit on the bar-top nursing a pint of fairy ale. It is bitter on my tongue and I find no comfort in the way it burns down my chest. I drink because I need the distraction, not because I enjoy the taste.  
To one side, the retainers are detailing the final battle. Altea’s hands spark with magic as she punctuates her stories, Iseul hangs by her to act out his own fighting stances, and Saerys provides his own commentary. August hangs with Heloise and gives her a full run down of what the final battle was like. Reiner discusses things with council members and draws plans on a napkin of what will be done when reparations begin. Even Alain, out of place in his teals and whites, looks relieved for the war’s end and hangs hesitantly by the retainers.  
Everyone is celebrating the end of the war. Everyone except me.  
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut.  
She should be here with me now. Helena and I should be sitting next to the retainers. She should be talking about the war and how it had ended. I should be bragging to everyone who would listen that my love had outshined us all and saved the world.  
I should have had her at my side.  
A hand is placed on my shoulder. I look over to the side and recognize Queen Ishara. The Elven Queen has a cut to the side of her face, where a blade had nicked her, yet her eyes are bright. She is victorious and war has only brightened her spirit.  
“Will you not join the festivities? You are the one that crushed the Witch Queen’s crown. People want to hear the story from your own lips,” the Queen states. She takes the seat next to me without invitation and gazes at me.  
I bite the inside of my cheek.  
I crushed the crown in my fists, destroyed the source of her evil magic, and kept the shattered pieces. The Crown’s centerpiece is in my pocket. It is heavy and burns me if I touch it. I have kept it for the sole reminder that my love has been avenged.  
“I am tired,” I murmur, “I wish to retire.”  
I look away and drain the last of my drink. The fairy alcohol scorches my throat as it descends. I hide my displeasure at the taste.  
Ishara’s eyes have dimmed a bit. Motherly concern burns in her gaze and I see sympathy begin.  
She knows I am hurting. Whether she knows it because of her seeing gifts or just by mother’s intuition, she is aware of my pain. Her hand reaches out for my shoulder.  
“You have avenged her,” her voice is soft, “you can rest now.”  
I square my jaw until my teeth almost crack. I don’t want to think about revenge anymore.  
Revenge had driven me daily. Revenge had roused me from sleep and dragged me to battlefield after battlefield. Revenge had kept me warm when the campfires were low. Revenge had kept me company when Helena’s memory had taunted me.  
Now that I have fulfilled it, I feel empty inside. It is almost ironic. Killing the Witch Queen only made me feel worse. The Witch Queen is dead, yet Helena is not here. I don’t know why I expected vengeance to taste sweet when it is the most bitter taste I have ever swallowed.  
My life is empty without her in it. What is life without meaning? Am I truly alive or just surviving?  
Ishara’s touch begins to burn. I loathe receiving sympathy and want to be left alone. Loneliness kills but perhaps I am ready to leave.  
“I will sleep when I am dead,” I argue. I evade Ishara’s grasp.  
Ishara’s lips purse. My answer has worried her, and perhaps we both have a reason to worry. I am not sure I would mind eternal rest, so maybe she does have a reason to look upon me now with anxiety.  
“I see a blank spot in your future,” the Elven Queen admits, “I cannot see past these next few weeks. Please, do not do anything foolish. She would want you to live.”  
I scoff and look away. My hands go into my pockets and I spin around. My room in the inn is upstairs, I am at my limit with society.  
“We do not always get what we want. She wanted me to live, and I wanted her to live.”  
———

The bed feels emptier without Helena in it. I have never truly realized how large a bed is until I did not have her at my side. If I rest on my back and stretch my arms, I have more than enough space. The sheets are cold, the mattress longs for her form, and I am struck by the loneliness of it all.  
Sleep does not come easy, it died with her in that battle field, and I toss and turn. Every once in a while I will fade into unconsciousness, drift across the space between sleep and wakefulness, but I am always roused away by a nightmare. I see her in my dreams, yearn for her, and wake myself up with fresh tears.  
At some point, I abandon my rest and sit up. My fingers go to the gem in my pocket.  
The Witch Queen’s crown had been a powerful item. The stone at the center glints ominously in the light. It burns to the touch, yet I welcome the pain.  
Pain means I am not dreaming. Pain means she is truly gone and I have her crown as proof. Pain means Helena has finally been allowed to rest after a long war-  
But, more importantly, pain means I am still alive. Life is a curse, but it is a punishment I take eagerly. Helena died to protect me, the least I can do is prevent her sacrifice from being in vain.  
I prop myself up on the window ledge. The Falke Inn overlooks the woods. Moonlight pours through and cascades around me. If only I could drown in it. Drowning in moonlight seems better than wading through darkness.  
I turn the crown’s centerpiece over in my fingers. Dark magic coils from it and whispers around me. Temptation’s bony fingers reach out to me and promise me anything my heart desires.  
I stifle its attempt and grit my teeth. The Witch Queen took the crown because it promised her power, but I will not make her same mistake. The thing I yearn for the most is my beloved, but I am not foolish. I know I will not see her again.  
I look away from the gem and up at the sky. A shooting star blazes a trail overhead. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip.  
Despite my earlier thoughts, I still find myself wishing to see Helena again.  
And, as always, my plea will go unanswered.  
———

As a favor to me, Reiner set up Helena’s grave in his castle. Her resting place is nestled next to the Wolfson family, and her name is carved lovingly into the marble grave marker.  
I kneel before the spot and trace my fingers over every curve of her name. This place will never truly bring me peace, but it does make the impossibility of being alone sink in.  
“It is over,” I whisper. “She cannot hurt you any longer.”  
My forehead presses to Helena’s gravestone. I will the gods to carry my message to her. Surely she can listen to me now.  
We are soulmates, I believe that firmly. Wherever she goes, I go. I feel her presence even if it is just a whisper of grief. I choose to believe that she knows. I want to believe that she remains by my side even now that death has torn us apart.  
I bring my lips to her gravestone and press a kiss there. The stone is cold on my skin, but I will myself to pretend that she is here. If I concentrate, I can still feel her touch on my skin.  
My eyes begin to burn and I blink them away. Helena would not want me to cry, not over her.  
I wipe angrily at my eyes and stand up.  
I love her and miss her so much. Were death to strike me down now, I would not mind it. If I could see her again, I would accept my fate.  
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I curl my fingers over the jewel. As always, the magic burns my skin and sends pricks of pain through my body. I do not mind it. Pain means I am alive whether I want to be or not.  
———

Reiner turns the crown’s jewel over in his hands. His lips are thin and Altea hovers over his shoulder with a book in hand. I grind my teeth together as they analyze my trophy.  
“Her magic remains,” Altea murmurs. She flips through books faster than her eyes can read. She searches for a way to deactivate the gem.  
I bite my lower lip.  
“Can you break It?” I ask.  
I can feel the remnants of the Witch Queen’s magic from what remains of the crown. It pulses with unholy life and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I want to rid myself of it as quickly as possible.  
The sooner all traces of her are gone, the sooner I can go back to mourning Helena in peace.  
Altea gazes at her book again and her mouth purses.  
“There is a ritual to cleanse it of the magic. It may or may not work. Are you sure you want this?”  
Her eyes meet mine and I see her worry. The ritual is a dangerous one and so many things can go wrong. She hopes that I will change my mind.  
I won’t. If the ritual is dangerous, I am even more tempted. I am long past the point of caring about my own wellbeing. Any respite from the hollowness I feel in me is a welcome gift.  
“I am sure. Perform the ritual.”  
———

As if sensing that it is about to be destroyed, the magic within the crown spirals out of control. It scorches the tips of my fingers and climbs up my arms. My entire body pulses with electricity and dark magic.  
I squeeze my eyes shut as Altea begins the ritual. Magic surrounds me and chanting registers past the ringing in my ears. The entire world is bathed in light and darkness.  
I hold firm on the stone even as the magic tries to consume me.  
This crown must be destroyed. The last of the Witch Queen is within it. I want to banish her from history. Erasing her magic from this tiny gem is a must.  
How many times had she hurt Helena with her magic? How many times had she used this crown against her? How many times had my love suffered because of this one gem?  
I clench my fingers around it even as the stone turns to fire. It cooks in my skin and pulses in my hand.  
The magic within the crown panics. It begins to seek me out desperately.  
As it once did the Witch Queen, it offers me power. It is so desperate to survive that it is willing to forge an alliance with the very person that killed its wearer.  
I bite my tongue. Power means nothing to me. There is nothing I want in life more than the one thing I cannot have.  
Altea continues to chant. Her magic swirls in pinks and whites. It spirals towards the jewel in my hand. A crack forms along its surface.  
The crown panics again. It extends its offer to immortal life. I will live and remain young forever if I save it. I care not for life. What good is it to live in a world without Helena?  
Another crack appears in the jewel. This time, an inhuman shriek resounds from it. The magic is so close to being erased. Altea begins to sweat and her own power strains against it. Just a few more moments and the last of the Witch Queen’s magic will be gone.  
I clench my fists around the stone and crush it. My own grip speeds the process of it cracking. I can feel it shuddering in my grasp.  
In one last attempt to save itself, the crown offers me one last thing. By now, it is desperate and willing to give me anything.  
An image of Helena fills my senses. I see her in her splendor. Her long blonde hair falls across her shoulders, her blue eyes spark with love and affection, and her hand reaches out for me. I feel her close to me, see her appear as a vision, and my heart gives a painful beat.  
The crown, it seems, is offering her. If I save it from this ritual, refuse to destroy it, it will give me Helena back.  
Death is irreversible, I know that, yet I can’t squash the spark of hope that lights up in me. My mind tells me to be weary of the crown and the dark magic that pulses within it, but my heart is already picking up in rhythm. My breath comes out shallow.  
If I am to make a choice and get my beloved back, I must make it now. Altea’s spell is almost complete and the cracks in the jewel are numerous.  
Without thinking, I react. My mind is so full of Helena that I don’t realize what I am doing until it is too late.  
I move the crown out of Altea’s magic’s reach and move out of the ritual circle. The spell fades away into nothingness and the crown is repaired before my eyes. The Witch Queen’s dark magic will not be destroyed today-  
At least not until it holds up its end of the deal.  
Altea gives out a weak cry and holds her chest. She is exhausted and shocked.  
My hand shakes with the crown. I cannot let my only chance of seeing Helena again be destroyed.  
“I-I cannot let you destroy it,” I gasp out. My heart is pounding in my chest.  
Altea gapes at me, startled, and edges closer. She calls my name and I hear her worry.  
“You have to let me destroy it! Whatever it promised you, it is lying! Do not listen to it!” She extends her hand and waits for me to drop the crown into her palm.  
I angle my body away and shield the gem from view.  
The crown is a liar, it manipulates people and takes control of them, but I do not care. If it will let me have Helena again, then I will accept whatever fate befalls me because of it.  
I see my reflection glinting in the jewel. The girl that stares back at me is heartbroken. She is missing her soulmate, her other half, and the crown pities her. It will give her what she seeks.  
I close my eyes and accept the deal. The stone turns cold and magic surrounds me.  
The crown for Helena. Like the Witch Queen once did, I accept the deal. The jewel is evil and has wrought so much pain to the world, but if it gives me back Helena I do not care what befalls it.  
Altea tries to run for me, tries to save me from myself, but I do not give her the chance.  
The crown falls at my feet and light pours from it. A portal appears and shows me a world full of artificial light and metal carriages.  
Without thinking, I plunge into it.  
Ishara once asked me not to do anything foolish, yet I have defied her. If it will let me see Helena again, I will break every law humanity has.  
———

The land I emerge into is called Chicago. I have never heard of it, yet it feels familiar somehow. People swarm past me and hardly give me a second glance. A stranger in armor is a curious sight, yet this city moves too quickly to give me a second thought.  
I look around me and bite my cheek. The crown disappeared the moment the portal closed, a relic as powerful as that knows how to hide, so I am all alone in this strange land.  
I wander past the streets trying to decipher where I am. Foreign accents fill my ears and bizarre sights blind me.  
I know nothing about this world except for the fact that the crown promised me Helena. The thought of seeing her again is what keeps me going.  
I wander into the street and squeeze my fingers in a tight fist. The crown swore Helena would be here, yet I cannot find her. Perhaps I was lied to. Perhaps Altea was right and I have fallen for a cruel trick. The crown was so desperate to not be destroyed that I would not be surprised if it has played me for a fool.  
I close my eyes and blink away the tears.  
In the end, I have been deceived. Helena is not here and I am all alone in a foreign world. If only death would take me now and end my suffering.  
A loud noise sounds from behind me. I turn to see a metal carriage barreling towards me. A loud noise emits from it, a honking, and I close my eyes.  
I have asked for death and it seems this world is ready to deliver it. Finally. I ready myself for the impact, the crash that will no doubt take me, but it never comes.  
Instead, screeching sounds as the metal carriage halts. The smell is of burning rubber as it slams on its brakes. A driver pokes his head out and yells at me to move. I plant myself like a tree.  
The side door to the carriage opens. It is a large car that extends past the others. Whoever rides in it is important.  
A figure emerges from the carriage and my heart stops.  
She wears a long blue and white dress, floral patterns emblazoned across the fabric, and a pink overcoat hangs from her shoulders. Blonde hair is neatly tied back, skin is flushed softly, and her lips are up in a kind smile. I would recognize her anywhere.  
Helena.  
My knees suddenly feel weak and I gaze at her. My heart gives a million beats per minute and my head is spinning just as fast.  
The crown had promised me that she would be here, and it seems like it was telling the truth.  
The woman, Helena, approaches me hesitantly. Concern shines in her eyes and she blinks up at me.  
“Miss, are you alright?” She angles her head curiously.  
Her voice is just like Helena’s. I close my eyes and memorize the smooth sound of it. It is like music to my ears.  
“My limo almost hit you, are you hurt? Should I take you to a hospital?” The woman inquires again. True worry burns in her gaze.  
I realize she is awaiting for my response. I fumble with what to say.  
“Helena?” I ask it softly, tense before her answer, and wait with baited breath.  
Please let her be Helena. Please.  
The woman blinks quizzically. She begins to smile, but it is not in recognition. Instead, she flushes with praise and pleasant surprise fills her gaze.  
“Helen, actually. Do you recognize my work? Are you a fan?” She leans forward excitedly.  
A fan? Work?  
Cold, numbness washes over me. Helen, not Helena. This is not my beloved.  
This woman does not recognize me. She is not the same Helena that loved me. The crown has granted me my wish of seeing her again, but it has twisted it into something terrible.  
A lump forms in my throat. Helen continues to talk. She sounds overjoyed.  
“Have you seen my movies? My tv shows? I haven’t met a fan yet. The tabloids say I’m a rising star, but you’re the first person that’s recognized me. Where have you seen me before?”  
She extends her hands towards me. Her fingers intertwine with mine. I feel a spark as we touch. Even worlds apart, we are a perfect fit.  
I do not know what to say to her question, cannot think of a suitable answer, but it does not matter. Helen’s eyes sweep over my armor. I am still wearing the same outfit I wore when she lived. The armor she liked so much on me and fastened herself.  
Recognition shines in her face and I grow excited before deflating again. She does not recognize me, she merely recognizes my outfit.  
“Wait! I know where you’ve seen me. I was in that fantasy show a few months ago. That’s a really nice cosplay suit,” Helen grins, “I really liked that show. Who was your favorite character?”  
Character? Show? The words mean nothing to me. Still, I answer her question. Regardless of the world we are in, she has always been the love of my life.  
“You are,” I whisper. I shiver as I say it, feel the force of the meaning behind my words, and squeeze her hands.  
Helen must feel something too because a beautiful blush spreads across her cheeks. She warms at the praise and her lips are quirked up in a soft smile. For a second, I forget how to breathe.  
“Aw, you’re sweet,” she replies.  
She offers me another dazzling smile before glancing back at her driver. The man is impatiently waiting for her and his lips purse. He asks me if I am okay.  
Helen turns her concerned gaze on me. One of her fingers curls under my chin and tilts my face up. I am caught in her dark blue-eyed gaze. My mouth dries suddenly and my heart gives another painful lurch. She is just like my Helena...  
“Do you want to go to a hospital? What is your name?”  
I give her my name. She repeats it under her breath, savors it on her tongue, and blinks. For a moment there is a spark in her eyes, a flare of recognition, but it fades. She still does not know me.  
“Where should we drop you off? Do you have an apartment?” She tilts her head.  
I have no idea what that is and give her a quizzical stare. She raises an eyebrow.  
“What do you remember?”  
I pause.  
I remember Altea casting the ritual, I remember making a deal with the crown in exchange for Helena, and I remember the portal. Of course, I doubt this is the answer she wants. I bite my lip.  
“Nothing. I-I don’t know,” I blink.  
Lying to her is painful, I never liked to hide the truth from her, but I cannot tell her who I am. She would never believe me, and I have no right to claim her as my lover. She cannot consent to someone she does not know.  
Helen purses her lips. “The shock of the accident must have taken a toll on you. You didn’t hit your head did you?”  
She doesn’t wait for my response. Gently, she tugs me lightly towards the carriage, or limo as she called it.  
“I’m staying in Chicago for the next few weeks to wrap up a movie. My hotel is nearby. I don’t make a habit of inviting strangers to my place, but I think I owe you. My car nearly killed you today. Come with me and we’ll get things sorted out, yeah? Maybe we can help you remember something.”  
She tugs on my hand and leads me to the limo. The driver says nothing as I get in but gives Helen a quizzical stare. She ignores it.  
My hand is still in hers and she absentmindedly traces a pattern on my knuckle. It is such a familiar action that my breath is taken away. How is it possible that she is just like my Helena but not her?  
Helen folds her legs under her and gazes at me. She gnaws at her bottom lip with her teeth. Again, there is a spark of something in her gaze.  
“You really look familiar to me. Do I know you?” She peers closer at me.  
I want her to know me, remember me, and be with me. I want her to be my Helena. I want us to be what we used to be, but I know I can’t have that yet. So, instead, I obscure the truth.  
“You also look familiar,” I murmur.  
Helen nods, still puzzled, and offers me another kind smile. “Well, perhaps we’ve met before?”  
I look out the window as the limo begins to move away. The Chicago skyline is so different from my home. Still, I am comforted by Helena at my side.  
The crown had promised me Helena and had twisted my wish. It had given me Helen instead and erased her memory. I am hurt as much as I am joyful. I have her back yet she is out of reach all the same.  
I square my jaw stubbornly and give her fingers a light squeeze.  
Helena does not remember me, Helen is so different from the lover I lost, but it is still her. I feel her as my soulmate. The way my heart beats, the way sparks fly from our every touch, I know she is my destiny.  
The crown might have pulled a terrible trick on me, but I will not give up. If this is my Helena, then I will do everything in my power to have her remember me. Hell or high water, I will fight for my beloved.  
“Perhaps we have met before,” I nod, “But we can meet again now.”  
I extend my hand and offer her my name. “It is nice to meet you.”  
Helen takes my hand without hesitation and raises my palm to her lips. She brushes a polite kiss across my knuckles and smiles.  
“It is nice to meet you too.”  
She doesn’t let go of my hand as she eases back into the seat. I am grateful.  
The jewel in the crown tried to hurt me by giving me Helena in a different form, but I will not give up. If Helen is my Helena, I know our love will endure. Our connection transcends timelines and worlds. A love like ours cannot be stifled by magic or death.  
I ease against the seats and smile to myself. For the first time in a long time, I feel complete.  
My soulmate is at my side once more, and this time I will not lose her. Helena is my destiny and I will fight for her.


End file.
